


A London Ball

by sheriffgreene



Category: Black Sails
Genre: A meet cute of sorts, F/M, Somewhere in the middle of seasons 1&2, This may end up going somewhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:08:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8437963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheriffgreene/pseuds/sheriffgreene
Summary: Abigail Ashe attends another of many balls where she’s expected to find a suitable husband -no. Where she’s expected to behave in such a way that someone will find her a suitable wife. In the midst of yet another boring, suffocating evening in a room full of boring men who’ve more interest in her dowry than her, she finds one gentleman that makes her rethink the merit of these events after all.Peter Ashe took everything from Captain Flint. It’s time for Flint to take something back. Hidden in the Ashe home, are important documents that could change the course of Nassau's history and Flint is determined to obtain them. However, much to his annoyance, John Silver is right: he can’t simply make port in England and stride into Lord Ashe’s home himself.





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> This plot bunny has be jumping around for literally years and I've finally decided to write it. It's been a while since I've written for these two but I so love and enjoy them so I hope you do too! Comment & let me know what you think!

“You sure this will work?” Billy said as he batted Silver’s hands away from where he was trying to adjust the collar of his new suit. Well, new to him, at least. Never mind that they took it off a posh arsehole Silver picked a fight with in a tavern off the coast of the Carolinas. Flint suggested they kill him but Billy thought knocking him unconscious and taking his suit was enough for their purpose. 

“Of course it will work,” Silver exclaimed to Billy’s reflection in the mirror. “I’d do it myself, but I’m not exactly welcome in polite English society.”

“I’ve a feeling you’re not welcome in a lot of places.” Billy muttered and the curly haired man shot him a charming smile 

“You heard Flint, no margin for error. The future of Nassau depends on you mate, so, no pressure.” With a clap to his shoulder, Silver turned and exited the captain’s quarters. Leaving Billy to finally look at his reflection in peace. 

He hardly recognized himself, if he was being honest. He hadn’t worn anything so expensive and posh in his entire life and he was not used to being so... _covered._ His wrists were bare of the leather cuffs and beads he normally wore and he had only been allowed to keep those around his neck because they were safely tucked away underneath the frilly silk thing Silver had informed him was called a “cravat”. He looked too large and tanned and ridiculous in the clothes and he was still not entirely convinced that he was going to get away with it but he shook his head in resignation and walked out onto the main deck, feeling immediately uncomfortable in so many layers under the hot sun.

“Good, you’re ready,” Flint said as he stalked towards him. He regarded him for a moment before nodding in approval and going into his instructions. 

“Now Billy, remember what I said. Try not to draw attention to yourself. Peter Ashe is in his home in Charles Town so all you need to watch for is his daughter Abigail. Should be easy enough; she’s hosting a ball tomorrow night so you should be able to get in and out amongst the crowd of people with no problem. Go into Peter’s study, find the documents, and get out.” 

Billy nodded with squinted eyes against the sun as Flint pushed a bag of coin into his hand, to pay for his way to London from where they’d docked in Bristol. As he walked away to bark orders at the crew, Silver approached him once more. 

“Alright remember: you’re name is William Manderly,”

“I know my name,” Billy grumbled.

Silver continued on as if he hadn’t interrupted, “You’re the son of a merchant in the Americas back on business. _If_ anyone asks. But try not to get asked; you’re not there to make friends.”

“If I’m found out, I could get arrested. I could _hang._ All for a bloody document that says god knows what that’s going to solve all our problems. And I’m just supposed to take Flint’s word for it.”

“We’re all taking his word for it,” Silver reminded him.

“I watched him hand me a blank piece of parchment after he beat a man to death all so he could keep control of the ship. How the fuck am I supposed to know this isn’t another one of his schemes and I’m the one taking the fall for it?”

Silver regarded him thoughtfully for a moment before he leaned in and lowered his voice.

“I know what those documents say. He’s telling the truth. They can save Nassau. Trust me.”

Billy narrowed his eyes and leaned towards Silver himself. 

“I _don’t_ trust you.” 

Billy had stalked over to the disembarking boats when he heard Silver call out, “Then why are you going?”

“Captain’s orders,” he replied shortly. Quickly disembarking before the keen quartermaster figured out that much to his dismay, Billy was willing to take the chance on even the smallest possibility that life in Nassau could change for them. 

 

* * *

 

 

“What do you think, then, Anna?” Abigail asked through the mirror as her lady’s maid finished pinning a curl into place, “Do I look like a suitable enough wife?” She could barely contain herself from rolling her eyes as she said this.

“You look lovely, Miss.” was her lady’s maid’s diplomatic reply. 

Since finishing her studies a year before, Abigail Ashe led a relatively quiet and enjoyable life. She didn’t have many friends in town but she was shy by nature and found diversion in solitary activities and seeing to the running of her home. She had to admit she pictured her life more _active_ than it was and she yearned to visit the many places she’d read about in her books and learned about in school but recently all of that had gone to the wayside as her life became more and more about avoiding her family’s seemingly relentless plot for her to find a decent man to marry. 

“I wish Aunt Elizabeth wasn’t forcing this on me again. I’ve already agreed to attend countless balls when I arrive at father’s next month. Surely that should be enough to qualm their worries of my sure descent into spinsterhood.”

“Balls should be fun,” Anna said with a squeeze to Abigail’s shoulders, “even if you’re not keen on any of the gentlemen there, you should enjoy it as best you can.”

“They’re fun if you’re a ‘great conversationalist’; which I am not. I’ll bet father wishes I were more like cousin Catherine: a silly flirt with the inability to stop talking.”

“Well she _is_ engaged now,” Anna’s voice was laced with humor and Abigail couldn’t help but laugh as well. Only a few years older than her, Anna was one of her closest friends and confidants and knew extremely well of her wishes to not marry. She’d played accomplice many times in helping her dissuade a handful of too eager suitors. 

“Perhaps tonight is the night, Miss. The night a dashing young man walks in through those doors that isn’t quite so...”

“Boring? Old? Ridiculous? Only interested in me for my money?” Abigail suggests. Anna laughed and Abigail glanced towards her window at the approaching carriages. 

“I feel as if I’ve met every man in London,” she said with sarcastic, exaggerated dismay that made her friend giggle, “if I’m to be swept I’m off my feet tonight I’m afraid he must have had to travel a long way.”

 

* * *

 

 

Billy tugged at his waistcoat for the umpteenth time that evening. He’d had horrible luck with getting into Lord Ashe’s study, even with the clear directions of its location that Flint had given him. It seemed that every time he took a step towards the closed door, some older woman would interrogate him about his family’s money before throwing her daughter at him. 

He was pretty good about making excuses to get out of dancing. 

He didn’t know these English dances, having spent so much time in America. 

He had distinctly heard that gentleman over there was interested in asking her first. 

He was afraid he’d suffered a small injury to his leg and was quite useless for now. 

Not three seconds before, he’d told a Miss Thomas that he’d already promised the next few dances to another young lady.

“Oh,” the young woman seemed equal parts curious and offended, “and who might be the lucky lady to engage you for so long, Mr. Manderly?” 

“Erm...” he racked his brain for something, _anything_ , when a suggestion suspiciously voiced by someone who sounded like Silver entered his mind. “Miss Ashe, of course,” he muttered stupidly. Miss Thomas let out a laugh that again, sounded offended and this time, amused. 

“Miss Ashe?” 

Billy nodded.

“How...interesting.”

“Why’s that?” Shit. Was something wrong with Abigail Ashe and he just blew his cover? Was she even there? Was she missing a leg and couldn’t dance? 

“Oh, it’s only that Miss Ashe usually prefers not to dance at her own balls. Apparently none of the gentlemen in London are good enough for her. Though I suppose you’re not from London, are you?”

Billy was growing increasingly more nervous and feared for his secret identity. Flint had explicitly warned him to not speak to the same person for too long in case he say something he shouldn’t and Miss Thomas seemed determined to not let him escape.

“I’s born in Kensington,” he offered lamely, his thick accent making an appearance through the posh one he faked. 

Suddenly Miss Thomas was distracted by someone behind him and Billy breathed a sigh of relief that he might make his leave soon. 

“Miss Ashe,” she called to someone directly over his shoulder. He was fucked. “You must tell me how you engaged this fine gentleman this evening?”

A soft voice emerged from somewhere to his right but Billy refused to look in her direction.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Mr. Manderly was just informing me that he’s indeed promised the next several dances to you. How flattering it must be,” Miss Thomas wore a smile but her eyes shot so much venom towards the disembodied voice to his right that Billy was grateful the women in Nassau were much more straight forward. Not that he regularly interacted with those either. 

“Flattering indeed, Miss Thomas,” Abigail Ashe (or the voice of Abigail Ashe) spoke slowly, trying to understand and ready to call him out on his lie, no doubt. “I was just looking for...Mr. Manderly, in fact. The dance is about to start; and I’ve come to collect.” 

This time, Billy couldn’t help but turn towards her abruptly, completely stunned, and found a pretty young woman with wide brown eyes staring straight at him. She was silently questioning him with an arched brow and all Billy could do was find the grace to bow his head as the band began to warm up in the background. 

“Miss Ashe,” he offered his hand and excused himself from Miss Thomas while leading Abigail Ashe towards the adjoining ball room

“You’re a liar,” she whispered as she hurried to match his stride on much shorter legs than him. 

“I apologize. I didn’t wish to offend Miss Thomas.”

“I think you offended her either way,” when Billy looked towards her, Abigail was glancing behind her shoulder towards the other young lady with an amused look in her eyes.

They finally reached the dance floor and Billy slowly took his place, following the lead of the other men around him. 

“I really don’t know how to dance,” he whispered to her. 

“Perhaps you should’ve thought of that before you promised me the next _several_ dances.”

If Billy wasn’t in such deep shit, he would’ve grinned. 


	2. II.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After nearly a year. An entire year. Here's the second part. Thank you for your patience and enjoy!

In the end she lets him off the hook after stumbling through one dance where he lagged behind the others because he was desperately trying to keep up with what the men around him were doing. When the song ended, she curtsied gracefully and with a smile, turned and walked away from him, getting lost in the crowd of guests. 

Having specific instructions and not much longer to carry them out, he suppressed the twinge of disappointment he felt at Miss Ashe leaving so soon and without another word to him. This time determined, he made his way discreetly up the grand staircase in the house and to the east wing where Flint told him Peter Ashe’s study would be. To his complete relief, he found the door unlocked and quickly began shuffling through drawers and book cases. 

He’d found nothing thus far; looking specifically for an envelope addressed to a James McGraw, when the door to the study was flung open and a young maid stood in the light pouring in from the hallway.

“Sir, you should not be in here.”

Quick on his feet, he replied, “I’m sorry. I got lost.”

“In Lord Ashe’s study? A curious place to get lost...”

To that he had no answer. The maid let the door open wider and stepped to the side.

“Please be so kind as to join the other guests in the ballroom, sir, Miss Ashe would not like to hear her guests are getting lost.”

Billy cursed under his breath but bowed his head and left the room, watching with dismay as the maid took out a set of keys and locked the room behind her. There would be no getting in that night, and Flint would have his balls for it. 

 

 

* * *

 

He had been wandering about the ballroom for nearly ten minutes, considering his next course of action. He could make the day long trip back to Bristol but doing so empty handed might actually be the death of him and so he continued to glance around the room, mulling over his (limited) options when he made eye contact with Abigail Ashe. 

He smiled at her with a small nod, as if he hadn’t been trying to rob her some moments ago and she offered a shy smile in return.

He watched her discreetly make her way around the ballroom towards the doors leading out to the balcony and, unsure if he was welcome or not, he decided to follow her. 

“How peculiar you are Mr. Manderly,” she said as he closed the doors to the balcony behind him. Her back was turned towards him as she stared into the darkened lands of her home. 

“Why is that?” he responded. 

“You arrive at my home, all the way from the colonies and I’ve not heard of you before. Neither has my aunt whom I assure you has heard of everybody.”

“I’m a private man, I suppose,” he offered. 

“What is it your family does, again?”

“My father’s a, um, merchant in the colonies.”

“Which one is that?”

He says the first one that occurs to him. 

“Charles Town.”

“You must know my father then,” she exclaimed, turning her wide eyes on him once more and he cursed himself for not having thought of that. 

“I have...er...heard of him.” 

“How odd that you’ve not met,” she mused, gazing back into the darkness. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but closed it again. She did this several times until she seemed to gather her thoughts and said, “how odd, as well, that my lady’s maid seemed to have found you in my father’s study just a while ago.”

Fuck.

She turned to look at him with a slight tilt to her head and for all her quiet demeanor Billy felt as if he were being very closely examined; one wrong move and it would all be over.

“If I didn’t know any better,” she began slowly, “I’d say you were a thief.”

If he were smart, he’d run. He eyed the drop if he were to jump from the balcony and measured that he might make it without breaking anything. Instead he challenged her.

“But you do know better?”

Abigail shrugged her shoulders, “It doesn’t matter if you are. There’s nothing of importance in that study. My father took everything with him. I mostly use it for all my old books so if you _were_ a thief, I’m afraid you’d be out of luck.”

Billy remained silent and for several minutes Abigail let him stew in his anxiousness, until she broke the silence.

“You work for your father, then?”

“I do,” he croaked.

“And do you like it?” 

He turned to look at her and thoughts of his life on Flint’s crew sprang to mind; the weight of hope the possibility to lead another life had.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. It’s what I’ve done my whole life,”

“But if you had the chance,” she urged, “would you do something different?”

He tried to picture succeeding in his mission. Tried to picture the promises that Flint had made coming true and he fell short at picturing much else beyond stepping on English soil a free man. Was there even a life for him ashore?

He gave a small laugh and said, “I can’t imagine I’d be much good at anything else.”

At this, something flashed in Abigail’s eyes, almost as if he’d personally offended her.

“I’ve never known anything other than how to be the most proper of ladies. Excel in my studies, but not so much that it would intimidate men. Be a good conversationalist but not talk out of turn. Be well read but not fanciful and always be prepared to be a good wife and mother. If I were to find that I’m good at nothing other than that I would be devastated.” 

“What would you do differently then?” He noticed that his posture was relaxed, his arms crossed in front of him and leaning casually against the balcony; the way he might’ve done on the ship. He briefly considered standing upright when he caught himself; continue the farce of propriety but he was too comfortable, too eager to hear Abigail’s answer, to move.

“I’d quite like to see the world. The Americas, the islands, the sea...”

“Not keen on the wife and mother thing then?”

She blushed and widened her eyes, as if she’d just been caught talking to herself instead of answering his questions. “It’s not that I don’t wish to marry, Mr. Manderly. I just wish to do it on my own terms, with someone I choose for myself.”

Without much of a filter, his mind went to Anne Bonny. She was one hell of a pirate and a woman who’d chosen a life at sea with a man of her choosing rather than one at home. Unbidden, images of Miss Ashe commanding a crew the way Bonny did slipped into Billy’s mind and he smiled; amused.

“I beg your pardon,”

“No it’s alright. You just remind me of someone,”

“Not someone silly, I hope,” she whispered, looking abashed.

“Not at all.” 

She didn’t look any more at ease so he pressed on.

“You remind me of someone who did just that; took off to the sea. Married who she wanted. Granted he’s a bit of an arsehole in my opinion but they seem to get on. So I see no reason why you can’t tell your father and all those boring sods in there to fuck off, get on a ship and never look back.”

The blush and shy but scandalized smile she gave him made him suddenly aware of the amount of crass words he’d just said; possibly more than a lady of society had ever heard in the walls of her own home.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Ashe,” he quickly said.

“It’s alright,” she said with laughter in her eyes. “You’ve quite the free spirit for someone who doesn’t wish something more for himself.”

She stood a little straighter, a little closer and eyed him as if she were challenging him. Even though everything she knew of him was a lie, she looked at him as if she were daring him to tell her life on the Walrus was all he wanted. He knew there was no way of her knowing anything about him past all the lies he’d told her. But despite all that the thoughtful way she regarded him was like she could see past them. He wasn’t the son of a merchant forced to take the family business but he _was_ the product of Flint, not forced, but indebted to do his bidding for saving his life. Too ashamed of the things he’d done to ever go back.

“Perhaps I’m happy with where I am,” He said unconvincingly.

“Are you?”

It took just a breath for him to realize how close they suddenly were and for a few wild moments Flint didn’t exist. The Walrus wasn’t docked in the shadows in Bristol waiting for him to rob Abigail Ashe’s home. There was just this girl, questioning his life and daring him not to just take her hand and beg her to run. He’d show her the sea. He’d show her the whole damn world if she asked him to.

“Right this very minute? Yes.”

The electricity in the air cracks one more time before a loud cheer from inside her home breaks the magic like thunder. They jump apart and he shakes his head once, trying to rattle everything back into place; everything Abigail Ashe had just flipped on its head. 

“I-. I must go, Miss Ashe,” he starts and she quickly interjects, 

“Of course...” sounding breathless and looking out over the balcony to avoid looking at him.

He turns on his heel and is nearly at the door when he hears her call out.

“Mr. Manderly?”

He stops but doesn’t turn fully; just tilts his head enough to see her out of the corner of his eye. Afraid the mad thoughts about running away with her in tow would return.

“I’ll be leaving London next week. I set sail to join my father in Charles Town. Perhaps you could call on me then.”

He’d never wished to be born into money or status in his entire life. He knew his place in the world and had made his peace with it. But right in that very moment, standing in a suit that wasn’t his in front of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, he wished he really were a gentleman from the Americas, promising to call on Lord Peter Ashe’s daughter the minute she set foot in Charles Town. He couldn’t bare to lie to her one more time, and so all he did was give a hesitant nod of his head while his heart swelled at the bright smile she gave him before turning away. 

Weeks later, when he’s captured and tortured and he feels the life fading in and out of him, he swears he sees Abigail Ashe smiling at him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may or may not be an epilogue (spoiler: there is).


End file.
